[PQ] [se] promise me that you'll leave the light on

Halo, born and bred. "Oh," she says, glancing at Deimos, their last foray into Halo responsible for some of the lanterns being made today. She shivers just thinking of the unforgiving land, and not only because of the cold. "I'm from here. All my life. This bakery was my grandmother's." And then, because she cannot help it, she adds a burning question that's been itching in her brain: "What was it like, growing up with the Old Gods? Knowing they were with you... out there?" Perhaps it's her curiosity that keeps her concentration from the lantern; whatever the reason, her star is less not coming together as well as she would like. The papers stick together poorly, the edges curling away at the corners, Aoife's drawings not presenting with the sincerity she hoped for. She frowns, frustrated by her continued failings, and more than a little envious of Weaver's continued success. Deimos and Seiji don't fare much better because the dice were brutal this round, fam, but together they are able to create lanterns that are high in sentimental value, if not skill. But the most important part is still to come: there are small candles in a pile on the table, waiting to be added to the inside of the lanterns, to cast shadows and light on the ghosts of the missing, illuminate the love they have for the lost. Weaver's lantern is gorgeous, Seiji and Deimos have solid foundations but their decorations will need to be touched up, Amalia continues to struggle. Last round! Add your candles! Amalia Her eyes, they know too much. She'll treat you like somebody but you just can't touch.